Thursday, September 30, 2010

Just in case you were on the (chicken) fence

about weather my and my fine husband were worthy of caring for poultry, I give you this chicken update and let you draw your own conclusions:

As you know, we were on chickens number 6, 7, 8 and 9. Chickens 1-5 are no longer with us - detailed account of their (quick) lives and (hopefully quick) deaths here. Last time I was on a replacement chicken run I bought 4 chicks. My thinking was that seeing as we were 0 for 5 the chances of all of these chicks surviving their chick-hood were, well, null and so if I bought 4 we should end up with at least one.

So take a wild guess what happened - they all survived. And I was all ptsd-high-infant-mortality-rate environment on their ass; refusing to name them or snuggle with them - sure they would be dead by morning. Nope. Alive and bwocking and POOPING.

We had no idea 4 chickens could produce so much shit. And shit stinks. And so our backyard has started to smell like what it is covered in - shit. It's not like dog poop where you can easily scoop, it is everywhere, and small and squishy. And did I mention stinky?

Jeremy is a stickler for things like germ theory and hand washing and was more or less rocking in the corner and banging his head against the wall every time he had to go in the backyard and I'll admit I was getting grossed out too, especially when you add 2 kids who don't always remember to take off their shoes when coming in from the (shit filled) back yard.

Sooo today when Hayden was at school we got a laundry hamper, an old baby gate and a bungee cord, I chased the 2 "reds" (the breed is "Production Reds" which Jeremy has concluded means they produce a lot of shit and no eggs), caught em, stuck em in the hamper, bungeed the baby gate on top, and Jeremy drove them back to the pet store where they gave us back the $3 we originally paid for them and will sell them for $12. They did not give us back money spent on food or the time feeding, watering, DE MITING, bathing, and otherwise sustaining their lives. And have I mentioned the damn things have STILL not laid an egg between the 4 of em??

So there you go. The chickens survived the dog only to be turned on by those upon whom they relied for sustenance. Let's just say it's a good thing diapers were invented or we may have tried to return the kids, as well.

2 comments:

dearheart said...

This may be why "free range" often turns out to be not so free. Thanks (I think) for the personal inside view. Perhaps you can work a reality show a la "Dirty Jobs" out of this.

One more thing - I loved the line, "And I was all ptsd-high-infant-mortality-rate environment on their ass; refusing to name them or snuggle with them - sure they would be dead by morning." Ha!

Jane said...

My daughter - the writer.